


Cold as the Wind Blows

by SiennaBlue



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post Dirge of Cerberus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5325275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiennaBlue/pseuds/SiennaBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all who wander are lost. </p><p>Some are, though. And finding your way back is hard. Harder when it's yourself you've lost and you don't know where to start looking. <br/> </p><p> <em>That Genesis sees something in him at all, that he sees things Cloud himself can't—the blond still has no clue what do with that.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold as the Wind Blows

**Author's Note:**

> I'm somewhat inspired these days and have a bit of time on my hands (yeah, right), and like a true friend, my dear tumblr buddy took advantage of it. She asked for angst-y Cloud and Genesis angst-y kissing in the rain. There's no rain, but there's a shitload of angst - sorry, it kinda developed a life of its own, - and a first kiss, so, maybe? In case you can't tell, it's her favorite pairing. *sigh* For some reason, Cloud's so much harder to write for me than Genesis was, which I absolutely didn't expect. Ah well!
> 
> Perhaps I should start looking for someone to proofread these things if I keep it up. This hasn't been seen by anyone but me yet, though, so once again my apologies for any and all mistakes!

Fenrir is waiting for him right where he left the bike.

A couple of steps, less than a stone's throw away, a child's throw, even. And yet, to Cloud, it might as well be a field of land mines for closing that gap turned out to be just as hard. 

For what feels like hours now he's standind here, can't make himself get on that bike and go. Not now. Not yet. Not when there's something back here, something wanting, something kindred, something that calls to him, to every cell of his being. Longing. 

The icy wind stings his eyes, tears at his clothes as if to shake him. Snap him out of this stupor, this fog he has fallen under. It's not unlike a Confusion spell, yet worse because Cloud knows for a fact it's not it. He isn't lost. He isn't. He knows what he has to do. Knows where he should be heading. Knows it's better for everyone. 

His mako eyes can make out the skyline of Edge in the distance, gray and vague, bleak like the weather. Like his mood. There. He should be heading there now, Tifa will be waiting at the bar. 

Home. 

That city he's helped building and re-building, time and time again. That's _home_. Has been for years. Has always called him back, the people living in it. His friends. Family, even. Allies. And yet... 

The leather of well-worn gloves squeaks in protest as hands curl into fists. _Get a grip and go._ Home. _It's better this way._ He shouldn't let them wait. That's a poor excuse, he knows. Tifa's done waiting on him, done waiting when he's on a job and unsure how long it'll take. They agreed on it one day, almost without having to say the words; with too many cold meals and disappointments on both their plates, it was the smartest thing to do.

He's finished his latest job yesterday. Has been back since noon, but he hasn't been back in Edge, back home, hasn't called anyone, lest someone will come looking for him. Instead he's been spending time near the ruins of Midgar, chasing monsters and shadows and something he can never quite catch. 

The high pitched trill of a phone startles the silence. A sound picked up by the wind and carried away. He waits until it's quiet again before fishing it out of his pocket. 

" _Hi Cloud,_ " Tifa's tinny but unmistakably cheerful voice comes from the speaker, " _when you get in, can you fetch some beer? The weather looks bad and we're in danger of running low and you know how the guys are. Anyway, thanks, and have a good night! Oh and Marlene and Denzel say hi!_ " It's a miracle the piece of plastic doesn't crack in his grip. 

A gust of wind whips at his pants, forcefully tugging every which way. 

Cloud doesn't move.

Stays rooted to the spot between coming and going and the wind howls in his ears as if to mock him. The small piece of electronics in his hand feels like it's made of lead, too heavy like his limbs. He pockets the phone. Icy chills roll down his arms and back, but the actual cold that seeps into his skin, it's not the wind. It's the same shivery thing that has his feet locked and his chest too tight. 

The same feeling of icy cold hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him apart. He needs to leave, but he wants to stay, and the thought is like barbs tearing into him no matter which way he goes. 

_My friend, the fates are cruel..._

And why the hell is he thinking about that now, why _that_ of all things? The amused voice in the back of his head has him clenching his teeth because it reminds him that, oh, yes, he knows exactly why. And if that voice sounds even a little like Aerith, he'll ignore that too. He's good at that.

He's good at killing things, too. 

...Or maybe not.

Unbidden his hand rises, searches out that spot on his arm, phantom pain there and gone. Dead things should stay dead, but some keep finding ways of coming back, again and again, no matter how hard he tries. Maybe he's just not good at killing things he's supposed to. Because people... they just die, if he wants them to or not. 

They die anyway. And no one ever waits. No one. 

Shaking unwanted memories from his mind, blood and rain, an old forest and a lake... he narrows his eyes in determination. Right. Time to move. Away from this place, away from the things take make him want to--

"By the Goddess, _why_ are you standing out here in this dreadful weather?"

Him. He doesn't have to see the man. The pissed off annoyance in Genesis's voice is enough to paint a clear picture of the look he's giving Cloud's back. 

It's a wonder he hasn't brought out the Fire materia yet. "Genesis."

"Who _were_ you expecting, Cloud Strife?"

No one. Certainly not Genesis, not after walking out on the former SOLDIER yet again, but that's not really an answer. Bowing his head in resignation, he turns to face the music. The redhead isn't one to be ignored for long and the longer he stays, the louder the longing sings in his blood, burns in his heart for things he can't have. Melting the numbness away. 

"Well?"

"Why did you come out here, then, if you don't like the weather?"

A beat of silence. "I didn't hear your bike leave."

Ah. "So you came to see if it was fine."

Genesis's stare is incredulous, like Genesis can't believe the stupidity coming out of Cloud's mouth. Like he's personally insulted by it. Knowing the man, he probably is.

"Yes. I came to see if your way of transportation has escaped the storm unscathed." Words dripping sarcasm like acid. He deserves it this time, Cloud's ready to admit, but still. _Ouch._ "Unbelievable." A sigh. "Sometimes you truly astound me. Tell me, Cloud, who ever made you think like this?"

"Like what?"

"Who made you think so little of yourself? I want to set them on fire!" Spoken so passionate, so bold, a sudden flood of shame colors Cloud's cheeks. 

Faced with a man whose own confidence borders on arrogance on his good days, let alone his bad days, what's he supposed to say? That Genesis sees something in him at all, that he sees things Cloud himself can't—the blond still has no clue what do with that. There is a whole new world out there, a world with much to offer, certainly more than Cloud. Yet, here he is. 

"I—I don't--"

Genesis waves that spectacular screw up of an explanation away with the flick of a hand. "Be that as it may, you still haven't answered my question."

 _Question?_ Cloud's face must say it when his mouth doesn't, because he watches Genesis's eyes narrow and his lips thin in distaste. 

"You. Why are you outside freezing in the wind?"

"I'm not freezing." And _why is he saying that_? Shiva, _why_?

Maybe his brain really is freezing. 

Could that be? 

Because, Gods, Cloud sounds stupid to his _own_ ears, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what the other man must be thinking. The eye roll is a perfectly good clue, and Cloud cringes, shrinking into himself. _Way to go!_

Unexpectedly Genesis's whole demeanor changes, the cold, confrontational look leaving his eyes. There's a replacement look in there now, one that gives Cloud pause. He knows that look. It's the same Tifa sometimes gives him, when she thinks he doesn't see. The look that wants to say so much, but she's afraid he'll break if she opens her mouth.

Genesis never has that problem, never hesitates to speak up. To make his opinion known. Point blank, tongue as sharp as the rapier he carries, everything else be damned. But oh, it's the same look and Cloud can't take it, not from him. Not here. Not when--

"Sometimes I do wonder." 

Cloud's mouth is very dry all of the sudden. "Wonder what?" His heart is racing. Panic licking at the edge of his mind. What if he--

The howling wind, Genesis's coat--red, it's red like his hair, and the only spot of color for miles--flapping in its unrelenting rage, thunder, very far off in the distance; his own heartbeat drowns it all out. Then Genesis touches him, hand to chest, flat, simple, right over Cloud's heart, innocent. 

Everything goes quiet, mind completely blank. 

Tunnel vision.

He's faced monsters, the end of the world, more than once, and rarely blinked an eye. Cloud's faced and defeated _Sephiroth_ , but here, this. He is completely defenseless, heart in his throat. 

Black dots dance in his vision. 

What is _wrong_ with him?! 

" _When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky._ What do you think will happen if you stay? Will the sky fall? The earth break open? I ask you, what terrible fate will befall us?" 

_You could leave, you could die on me_. Unbidden the thought comes, remorseless, cuts to the bone like treachery. Like that thing that burns in his chest whenever they are too close, close like they are now, that fierce surge of longing, of want, of need. 

The thought _hurts_. 

Cloud has made enough enemies to last him a lifetime or three. Even some of his on-again-off-again almost-allies, Neo-ShinRa and the Turks. Cloud wonders about them, too. In the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, he's just _waiting_ for something to happen there. What if the past once again comes back to bite him in the-- 

"I do not need you to protect me, Cloud Strife," blunt like always, arrogant, but kind, too, so, so kind, and that's. He doesn't know what to do with it. From _Genesis_ , of all people. 

And that's not right, is it? He needs them to be save and he has--How many did he fail to protect because he wasn't good enough, wasn't fast enough? How many simply got left behind, forgotten? Like Tifa, Marlene, Denzel, like any of his friends, he'd never forgive himself if Genesis was next on a list too long already. 

_You're weak, Cloud._ His hands jerk to cover his ears, ward off the words. No. _No._ He isn't. He is still here, isn't he? He hasn't given up. Still holding on, even if he no longer knows what he's holding onto. Being in Genesis's presence, it's all easier and harder at the same time. It shouldn't be like this, but it is. It's--he doesn't--

A blast of air draws his attention. 

A single black wing dancing in the wind, right in front of him with dozens of feathers torn loose and swirling in the air. For a second he can't breathe, but then Cloud's reaching out, arm extended, wanting to touch, to know how it feels. Fingers freeze moments before they can find out, horrified at what he's doing. At what he's thinking, but then again he _wasn't_ , is the thing. It's awkward meeting Genesis's gaze, even just from the corner of his eyes, but for once the man has nothing to say. 

There's a small curve to his lips, though. 

Not the ever-present smirk Cloud has come to expect, something quieter, muted somehow, softer. Genesis is neither of those things. Not on the surface, not even a little, not even at all. As if to contradict his mind, a single feather brushes Cloud's bare arm on its way down, soft and delicate, distracting him into dropping arm and gaze, watching. 

Mad. 

That's what this is. 

What he is. A different time, another wing, one that is dark memories of terror and pain... this one should be no different. Should have him reaching for his sword. 

Shouldn't it?

Instead, it's wonder that seizes him whenever it comes out these days.

Cloud doesn't remember moving. Doesn't remember Genesis moving. He must have, one of them, both, because Genesis's shirt is soft, warm wool under Cloud's cheek when he blinks, takes a shaky breath. He forces down the fight-or-flight reflex. Outside of sparring, they haven't been this close, Cloud always finding ways to avoid it. Of sidestepping, for good reason. But he can't now. Not when it feels like this. Warm.

 _Right_. Like he wants to stay...

He can hear Genesis's heartbeat, quiet and strong. Feel it. That... shouldn't come as a surprise, not with how they are standing, but it does, startles him into perfect stillness. Into leaning closer. The heart under his ear skips a beat, surprised, like it hadn't expected this. And hey, they are even, then, because Cloud hadn't either. 

The pressure of lips on top of his head, the side of his face. That's not just new, unexpected, that's completely alien, but no matter that, Cloud wants it. Feels it in his bones. Craves it. That feeling, that sparking warmth that goes with it, everything. Everything he doesn't have words for right now. 

Hands stroke his hair, careful fingers sorting through blond strands. 

Fingertips on his chin, a mild pressure and he goes, following the pull like a-- _puppet, good, little puppet_ \--no, no, he's not a puppet, not a blasted pawn to be manipulated, to be used. He's--his eyes snap open, his head up, yet instead of a shadow that haunts every nightmare, there's the faint glow of blue eyes looking back at him. 

And lips on his. 

Warm and dry, nothing like in the dreams he won't admit out loud, _to himself_ , but plenty insistent they leave no room for doubt to creep in. This is deliberate, this is not an accident. _This is real._ Cloud's eyes fall shut at the realization, overwhelmed. Lips on his cheek, the corner of his eyes. His ear. That's where they linger, for a long, long time, and Cloud doesn't dare move.

Genesis's voice comes eventually, so close, thrumming right under his skin. " _There is no hate, only joy, For you are beloved by the goddess, Hero of dawn, Healer of worlds._ "

His breath catches, salt burning in his eyes, blurring what little color there is. Somehow he manages to raise an arm, snatch a fistful of red coat in his hand. "I don't know what's wrong with me," a voice confesses, and. Is that really him? It doesn't sound like it. He sounds so young...

Sure, warm hands on either side of his face tilt his head to meet eyes much like his own. The light there, it's not just the mako, though. It's something that hurts to look at, something akin to understanding. 

He can't look away.

"That's quite all right, Cloud Strife, we'll figure it out."

Something cold and wet lands on his face, white pieces of fluff that cling to Genesis's red hair. Snow, his mind recognizes distantly. _It's snowing._ But there's no surprise left in him at that, to be surprised at the black wing embracing him, drawing him closer still. Only this time Cloud meets Genesis halfway, kissing wet and open-mouthed, with lips and tongues and teeth, with hands buried in hair and clothes. Kissing like there's no tomorrow. 

Kissing like his life depends on it. Depends on the air they share. 

And so they keep kissing, standing carelessly in the midst of a raging storm, with snow and feathers swirling and nothing exists beyond that. He could live in this moment forever, frozen in time where nothing can reach him. He knows he can't, too. Reality isn't going to bow out, go away. It isn't going to fix anything. But for now, for this very moment, Cloud can pretend. He can hope, with all he's got left.

Just for a couple of minutes. Just for them. It's all he'll ask. 

.. ..

I was made to keep your body warm  
But I'm cold as the wind blows  
So keep me in your arms  
\- _Kiss Me_ , Ed Sheeran 

.. ..


End file.
